Denali in Hiding

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Description:Seventeen-year-old Denali can lift trucks with her mind and see remote locations on a whim, but these skills won’t save her if the American Psi Council discovers she is trying to prevent a bombing in Washington, DC.

Denali doesn’t want to disobey the hidden society that recruited her. She loves Nashquttin, an island safe haven for psis where she is free to use her mind to fly paintballs at friends and roast marshmallows without a stick. There is nothing more liberating than cracking dead trees over the ocean after a heartbreak (even telekinetic guys can be jerks).

She also trusts the Council. It’s not like they’re pro bomb. They’ve simply learned through centuries of persecution that even well-intentioned psi actions can cause non-psis to wonder, investigate, and react violently in fear.

Denali should listen to the Council. She should avoid a lengthy prison sentence. She should ignore her pesky conscience and forget about seeing that eerie man in a faraway basement with bomb materials and blueprints of the State Department. And she definitely shouldn’t let her strong, strict trainer risk his life to help her.

It’s simple. She shouldn’t try to stop the bombing.

But she will.

First 250 words:I understood why my mom said, “Calling it an ‘academic pursuit’ doesn’t get you off the hook,” when I dug a six-foot hole in the front yard to show Eli how the earth changes like a rainbow the deeper you go.

I got why she frowned and said, “That was mean and really sort of disgusting,” when David and I—with just the right mix of apple juice, lemonade, and water—convinced Eli we were sipping pee on the porch.

I was not surprised when she screeched, “What the hell am I supposed to tell the mechanic?” after I practiced lifting her truck before I was ready and it clunked down hard in our driveway, bits and parts rattling about.

But when I got home last night, smelling like a campfire, I thought she’d be happy.

“It’s gone, eaten up by flames,” I said.

“What is?” She tilted her head as she locked the door behind me.

“My journal from last year. David and I burned it. So it’s almost like all that crap didn’t even happen.” I swiped my hands like I was getting rid of something sticky on my palms.